


Snow Games

by Ruffle (PuffandRuffle1)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuffandRuffle1/pseuds/Ruffle
Summary: A snowy day inspires fun for Jack and Daniel both outdoors and in.
Relationships: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill
Kudos: 15





	Snow Games

**Author's Note:**

> For Puff.

_Ploof._ The last section of snow falls from Jack’s roof into the piled up bank below.

Leaning the long-handled scraping tool against the wall, I survey the freshly cleaned surface with satisfaction. With the weight of the snow build-up no longer a threat, the only thing left that could make the roof fall in on us is wild, mind-blowing, wall-rattling sex. And speaking of my colonel… 

Brushing the excess powder off my jacket, I turn and look past the back deck. Jack’s almost got the final path cleared. Frankly I think the paths to the doors and garage were plenty without the extra ones crisscrossing the yard. Jack just wanted an excuse to keep playing with his snow-blower. Hmm, if he’s so interested in toys and games…

His back is to me as he pushes the gadget through the knee-high snow. The heavy parka hides the play of muscles across that strong back, but I have a gallery of up close and personal memories to draw on. I can easily picture the bunching and rippling under the broad expanse of skin, map every scar marring the still supple texture, kiss my way down his arching spine to the curved, firm ass…

The soft snow effectively muffles my footsteps as I advance toward that tempting back, and the noise of the motor provides a further sound screen. It’s not often I get a chance to catch Colonel Black-Ops Deadlier-than-an-Assassin Quicker-than-a-Ninja O’Neill by surprise. My breathing quickens in anticipation. I reach out and— 

_Whack!_

Bull’s eye! My snowball hits him dead center of his back.

With a yowl he spins to face me. Without even waiting for him to get all the way around, I let fly my second missile. 

_Splat!_

It lands on Jack’s chest.

I get maybe half a second to enjoy my victory while he stands stunned before he reaches out and flips off the snow-blower. It doesn’t take the devilish glint in his eyes or the grin settling on his lips to warn me battle is about to be joined. That was a foregone conclusion. I’m already making tracks for the nearest tree even as he’s reaching for his first handful of frosty ammo. I duck behind it just as Jack’s snowball whooshes past, the edge of it dusting my dodging backside.

The fight passes in a blur of streaking white as the snowballs fly back and forth, spattering snow against trees and bushes and sometimes even their intended targets. I can hear Jack’s whooping and laughing in between my own shouts, until a ululating war cry signals his charge.

Fleeing my cover, I dash across the open yard, zigzagging in my best pursuit avoidance fashion as trained by Jack himself. When he catches me, tackling me to the snow-covered earth, I’m not really surprised or, truth to tell, disappointed.

Before I can fully enjoy the sensation of his weight pinning mine, Jack pushes himself to his feet, sensibly helping me up from the cold, wet ground. We’re still panting, trying to catch our breath when a damp, fluttering sensation pulls our gazes upward.

“It’s snowing!” I swipe a gloved hand across my glasses.

“Ya think? Figures. As soon as we finish digging out from one snowfall, we get hit again.” Jack’s words don’t match his contented tone. No doubt he’s looking forward to another round with his snow-blower.

He doesn’t look like he’s thinking about his toys, though. His arms are outstretched, face still raised to the cloudy sky as he watches the flurries with a look of wonder, as though the snow is magical.

I can believe in that magic as I watch the big, fat, soft flakes drifting down, silvering his hair even further—his cap was lost somewhere, either to a snowball or to the running—and contrasting against the black of his eyelashes. On impulse I lean forward to taste the slowly melting snow, kissing his eyelids and sweeping my tongue across the soft lashes.

He smiles at me as I pull back, his hands reaching for my arms so as not to let me move too far away. “What was that?”

I lick my lips, savoring the lingering taste of Jack. “You’re the one who told me about catching snowflakes on your tongue.”

Eyes like melting toffee warm with his deepening smile. “That puts a new twist on it.” His hold tightens as he draws me in. “I’ve got another. How about catching your tongue?” Gently he presses his lips to mine, then teases them with light, fleeting touches from his tongue.

Responding to the irresistible lure, my lips part, eagerly welcoming his tongue into my mouth. The heat from Jack’s kiss permeates me, driving away all perception of the cold winter air. Twining his tongue about mine, he skillfully draws it back into his own mouth, playing with his catch before sucking on it hungrily.

When we finally separate, I gasp for breath, reeling a little in reaction. “N-nice catch.”

Jack steadies me, slipping an arm around my shoulders. “Why don’t we take this inside where we can warm up and get comfortable?”

I feel tingly with warmth, but the thought of being indoors with Jack where we can shed these bulky clothes is very attractive. In fact, no sooner are we over the threshold and pulling off boots and coats and gloves than I’m ready to discard the remainder of the clothing as well. Jack agrees but first hustles me into the bathroom so we can towel each other dry where dampness seeped in from all that rolling around in the snow.

Things are heating up very satisfactorily by the time I have him naked and in the bedroom, when Jack shrugs into a robe and heads for the door. “Why don’t you warm up the bed? I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Kitchen. Right back, promise.”

Slipping between the sheets, I barely have time to wonder what he’s up to before he’s back holding a steaming mug. He hands it to me, and I take a moment to inhale the comforting aroma before taking a sip. “Mmm.” Thanking the wonders of modern technology that can produce hot chocolate in seconds, I watch Jack drop the robe and join me in bed. My colonel beats any microwave when it comes to heating me up. “It’s perfect, thanks. Did you know chocolate is an aphrodisiac?”

Jack accepts the proffered mug and sets it on the bedside table without tasting it. “I know chocolate-flavored archaeologist is.” He proceeds to plunder my mouth for every atom of remaining chocolate. “Warm enough?” His lips stray across my jaw to my ear, sending shudders coursing through my body. “I can heat up something else—tea, soup?”

I run my fingers through his still damp hair and watch the shades shift and darken from pale dove-gray to pewter. “Nothing warms me the way you do.” I press closer, caressing his leg with mine. “Want you, Jack. Want to feel you warming me from the inside out.”

At the words his eyes darken as well, desire smoking from their depths to kindle us both. Tiny flames sear my skin in the wake of Jack’s fingers and lips and tongue as he kisses and licks and strokes me to full arousal.

Writhing in Jack’s arms, I feel my senses exquisitely divided between one hand tracing feathery torment across a hardened nipple and the other wrapped firmly around my rigid cock. I hear myself moan as the intense sensations are withdrawn, but immediately those comforting hands are delivering intimate new pleasures lower down, and soon Jack nuzzles my shoulder as he enters me from behind. The brief cold of the lube dissipates instantly in a blaze of friction.

I arch against him, relishing the sensation of his chest hair whispering across my back. Shivery contact with the chill metal of his dog tags only serves to heighten the maelstrom of heat now consuming me outside and in, exactly as I craved it.

There are times I prefer to see Jack’s eyes when we make love, but sometimes I like to close my eyes and concentrate on feeling Jack inside me. Reveling in the strength, the power, the movement within as his arms enfold me, I ride my own surge of power, giving and receiving, filling and filled, completing and completed, loving and loved.

One pure, white-hot moment of joint ecstasy spirals us through the heart of the fire we’ve built together and releases us to lie spent like cooling embers.

Gradually I become aware of Jack lavishing kisses up the nape of my neck, through my hair, and over to my temple. As we separate and roll to lie face to face, he tenderly nestles me against him. “Sweet.”

“Mm hm. And hot.” Tucking my head in its accustomed spot beneath his chin, I slip a leg between his. “But, Jack, it might be a good idea to check the house over later and make sure the snow’s not falling in.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I’m sure we blew at least part of the roof off with that one.”

THE END

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